


Lead and Follow

by neonsign



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 10:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10511856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonsign/pseuds/neonsign
Summary: “I can see right through you; I know I’m not the one you want to dance with.”As if to prove her point, Robin glances over at Lon’qu. He’s still watching, doing his job as bodyguard.“Yes, well… I know a lost cause when I see one,” he says.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my predictable ass

“Dancing is easy,” Robin says. Lon’qu stares at him until he adds, “In theory. I’ve read books.”

“I refuse.”

Robin’s eyes roll back into his head.

“I wasn’t _asking_ you.”

Lon’qu leans sideways against the desk, head propped on his hand as he watches Robin watch himself in the mirror. Robin tries not to let it get to him. There’s going to be multitudes more at the wedding so he just needs to focus. Chin up, shoulders back. A hand at his partner’s waist. The other – shoulder height? His or theirs?

Robin sighs and drops his arms.

“Maybe I should ask Maribelle for help.”

“From what I hear, she’s already helping several others.”

“Fantastic,” Robin mutters, lifting his arms again. “I’m going to make an ass of myself.”

Lon’qu’s response is to scratch his cheek.

“Olivia would help but I suspect she’s busy with bridal duties.” Robin adjusts his arm’s position. Close enough. What’s he supposed to do with his feet? Lead with the left. Or was it right? “Lissa, maybe. Or Virion – he still owes me for taking that arrow for him. I’d say that’s a fair trade.”

“If not me, then who are you planning to dance with?”

Robin drops his arms again and turns around. “What?”

Lon’qu doesn’t repeat himself; he knows he heard.

Robin shrugs. “I don’t know. But I’d rather be prepared.”

“You would say yes if someone were to ask?”

“Why not? It would be a waste to spend the entire royal wedding as a wallflower, wouldn’t it?” Robin turns back to the mirror, again. The bedclothes make him look unkempt and immature, a far cry from the elegant outfit he was fitted for earlier in the week. Even if it was a work in progress, the fine material and the delicate gold chains were… He runs a hand over his chest, remembering what it felt like.

“I never realized you were such a romantic,” Lon’qu says, tone heavy with derision.

Robin lets his hand drop. “I’m not, I’m just… Maribelle was saying that I’ve made something of a name for myself amongst the nobles; they’ll have their eye on me and I need to make a good impression. That means dancing. The Shepherds are a volunteer force; like it or not, we need them to fund our causes.”

“You are a soldier and an accomplished tactician, not some noble’s entertainment.”

“Yeah, well… tell them that,” Robin mumbles. He tugs at a lock of hair. He’s due for a cut. “Actually,” he turns around to look Lon’qu in the eye, “ _you’re_ not as free from scrutiny as you’d like to think. You’re a gift of goodwill from Regna Ferox, a symbol of our countries’ alliance. You have your own role to play. They’ll be watching you too.”

“That’s not how things work in Ferox.”

“You’re not _in_ Ferox.”

Lon’qu crosses his arms. Then his ankles. He averts his eyes.

Ah.

Robin picks at his nails. “Have you heard from Khan Basilio at all? About… going back?”

“No,” is all he gets, because of course it is.

Robin opens his mouth to ask, ‘Are you homesick?’ but stops himself before making even the slightest sound. He won’t get an answer. Lon’qu always does play his cards close to his chest. That’s fine; he’s known that from the beginning. It’s not like Robin is any different. The only thing that separates them is that he never had that many cards to begin with.

“I think I’m going to turn in,” Robin says quietly. “Are you staying or-?”

“If you’ll have me.”

A small bubble of happiness warms Robin’s chest. He steps back, holding out his hand, and Lon’qu follows, matching his movements and pace like there’s an invisible tether between them. It strikes Robin that this is probably the closest they’ll ever get to a dance. Affections between them are more physical than verbal but even those have their limits. And that’s fine.

The bed hits behind Robin’s knees and he falls back, pulling Lon’qu down with him.

He likes having Lon’qu there at night. Between the past and whatever lurks in lost memories, if they’re not woken up by their own nightmares then their woken by the other’s, but it’s always preferable to waking up alone. There are rare nights where neither wakes up and rarer nights where they both do, but even on the latter nothing is ever said about it. There’s a silent understanding between them. A tenderness they won’t admit exists. That’s a dance too, in its own way.

That night is one where Robin’s brain won’t even let him get as far as nightmares. Lon’qu passes out almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, the arm he slings over Robin’s waist as heavy as the entire world, pinning him more effectively than any restraints might. As nice as his face is, staring at it became boring within the first hour.

“Wake up,” Robin says.

Lon’qu doesn’t.

“Fuck me,” Robin says.

Lon’qu doesn’t.

Robin sighs.

Still, there’s a charm about this. The one time Lon’qu is vulnerable is when he sleeps. His features soften and his hand lays loosely curled against the pillow, begging to be held. It’s a sight allowed for only one person. Only Robin.

“You know, you’re cuter than you would ever want to be,” Robin murmurs, inching close enough to count every one of Lon’qu’s eyelashes. They’re surprisingly long.

Smooth skin, too, except for the scar on his cheekbone. There’s a freckle below the corner of his jaw that Robin likes to kiss. Kisses that lead their way down his neck and over the strong line of his collarbone. His chest rises and falls with deep, slow breaths. And those hands, large and rough but gentle as anything, hands that take care of Robin after he takes care of everyone else. Lon’qu may not be one for talking but those hands always find a way to say things beyond words.

Lon’qu makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat and stretches his legs straight. The hand on the pillow unconsciously rubs at his eye and he folds back up again, pulling Robin closer with the arm around his waist.

Robin closes his eyes, smiling to himself and taking hold of a handful of Lon’qu’s shirt.

Completely and truly, he is in love.

 

* * *

 

Lissa clicks her tongue. “You’re letting me lead, Robin.”

“Sorry.”

Robin tears his eyes away from Lon’qu, standing by the wall with his arms crossed. There as Lissa’s bodyguard rather than supporting Robin’s endeavor, which was something he hadn’t really considered when he asked her for help. Rather that he wasn’t there at all; it’s embarrassing being under the sharp eyes of someone who strives to be the best at everything he does. No doubt he would be a better dancer, were he to try.

“I thought you’d be more assertive,” Lissa teases. She adjusts Robin’s hand on her waist and nudges his toe until he slides it back into the proper starting position. “But I guess this is a little different than ordering armies around, huh?”

“I’m just afraid you’re going to slip another frog into my shirt.”

“I might, now that you’ve put the idea in my head. Alright, remember, lead with your left.”

Overall, Robin isn’t as terrible as he thought he would be. He only steps on her toes once or twice. Lissa’s a decent teacher once she gets down to it; it helps that she always seems to put everyone at ease, and that she matured a little over the course of the war. All that’s counteracting everything is Lon’qu’s gaze which feels like the eyes of a god bearing down on him. But if he could deal with Tharja before she fell for Nowi then he can deal with this. Although, to be fair, he never knew Tharja was there half the time.

“The tailor was by earlier, wasn’t he?” Lissa curtsies a little indelicately while Robin bows and scrapes. “Did you get your suit all sorted? And you, Lon’qu? I heard they put all the Shepherds in the same colours, right?”

“Yes, white and gold,” Robin says. She takes his offered hand as they straighten up and easily slip back into rhythm. “Hopeful and strong, so says the wedding planner. Symbolic of the bright days ahead of us.”

“You’re gonna look so handsome Robin,” Lissa beams. She glances over her shoulder. “Lon’qu, you’re just gonna look weird.”

Lon’qu clicks his tongue.

 

* * *

 

Lon’qu doesn’t. Not at all.

“Uh.” Robin blinks and tears his eyes away, turning back to Chrom. “The, uh… it’s almost time to march. You. Up the aisle.”

Chrom nods fervently, his chest expanding with a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah. No big deal, right?”

“No big deal,” Robin smiles.

In the days leading up to the wedding electricity has been coursing through the air. Everything feels charged, alive. There was hardly a solid base for Robin to land on when he woke up and what is there keeps shifting violently. Even so, he recognizes this as a change for the better. The biggest change has been in Chrom. The whole thing with Olivia happened so fast, but for anyone that knows how strongly the man loves and trusts, it’s to be expected. That defenselessness of his is still a frightening thing.

Robin watches him go, nearly barreling over a guest or two, before turning his attention back to Lon’qu. From defenseless to an iron fortress.

“You look handsome,” Robin says, straightening the chain on his jacket. Any excuse to touch, he’ll take. “I think I’ve only ever seen you in armour or casual clothes. You clean up well.”

“…Thank you.”

Robin waits. Nothing comes. Of course nothing comes.

“Me too, huh?” He smacks the back of his hand against Lon’qu’s chest. “Thanks, you’re too kind.”

“Uh, I–”

“Come on, we need to go line up.”

The Shepherds stand along the side of the chapel during the ceremony. They’re arranged by height, placing Lon’qu in the middle and Robin more towards one side. Not that they’re so attached at the hip that they can’t be separated, and Robin is most definitely not a romantic man, but between the music and the atmosphere maybe he starts wishing he had an arm to hold and a shoulder to rest his head against.

He glances sideways along the row. Lon’qu is just standing there, staring at Chrom and Olivia. She’s an old acquaintance of his – seeing her get married might be making him experience an emotion for once. Even with his phobia the two talk often; maybe she’s helping him get over it. After all, it’s hard to see him being okay with being hindered, especially with the way he always strives for perfection.

Robin turns back to the ceremony. It’s pointless to speculate. Whatever goes on in that head is a complete mystery.

Chrom slips the ring onto Olivia’s finger and her shoulders shake with poorly suppressed sobs. A ripple goes through the crowd along with a couple fond coos. People just love love.

Robin chews the inside of his cheek.

 

* * *

 

Lissa is the first person to ask Robin to dance. It’s her right as his instructor, she says, glaring at Lon’qu as if she expects him to challenge her. He doesn’t.

“This is romantic, isn’t it?” Lissa sighs dreamily. One hand in Robin’s, the other holds her skirt out as she curtsies. “I hope I have a wedding like this one day.”

“You will,” Robin says, coming out of his bow. “I can’t see Maribelle accepting anything less for her darling Lissa.”

“Maribelle?” Lissa giggles, her cheeks pink even under her make-up. She steps closer and places a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “What does Maribelle have to do with anything?”

“Oh, I dunno…”

The music starts and so does their dance. It’s a lot more nerve-wracking dancing in the middle of the ballroom than some empty room in one of the castle wings but the music helps, and so does the fact that most eyes are on Chrom and Olivia. Robin lets his gaze rove over the crowd. With his charge on the dancefloor, Lon’qu hovers awkwardly by the wall, one hand on the hilt of the sword he was given permission to wear. Their gazes meet and are torn apart just as Robin and Lissa turn.

“Guess I should’ve known you’d notice,” she sighs. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Thanks.” Lissa tightens her grip on his shoulder and sighs wearily. “We’re waiting to announce it. The princess not taking a prince is gonna be a pretty big deal. Can’t steal their thunder, can I?”

As one, they look over at the couple in question. Olivia’s dancing is as beautiful as ever and years of private tutors and lessons haven’t left Chrom too bad off either.

“You’ve matured a lot, you know,” Robin says.

“Hmph.” Lissa turns back to him, a knowing gleam in her eye. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You know, everyone always forgets I’ve known you just as long as Chrom has. I can see right through you; I know I’m not the one you want to dance with.”

As if to prove her point, Robin glances over at Lon’qu. He’s still watching, doing his job as bodyguard.

“Yes, well… I know a lost cause when I see one,” he says.

Lissa hums thoughtfully as he spins her around. She doesn’t disagree. They dance in silence until the song ends, then bow and curtsy once more.

 

* * *

 

By the time the party winds down, the full moon has already started to fall. It casts the courtyard garden into shades of blue wherever the lamps’ warm lights don’t reach. Feet and back aching, Robin leans against a balcony railing, bending over until his forehead rests against the cool stone. One hand cradles his throbbing head and the other grasps a wine glass like a tether to this world.

As it turns out, his dance with Lissa did impress some nobles, to the point where a number of them demanded dances of their own. And it was fun, truly; they were pleasant people. But now he’s exhausted beyond words and the walk to his room seems an endless one.

The band still plays, their music leaking through the open doors behind him, mixing pleasantly with the hum of voices of the party’s lasts guests. Robin listens, swallowing the last of his wine and trying to convince himself to start the pilgrimage upstairs.

Something touches his head. Robin jolts and his glass drops, shattering on the cobblestone.

“ _Gods_ ,” he hisses, “you scared me.”

“Sorry,” Lon’qu says. His lip twitches.

“You did that on purpose,” Robin laughs, smacking his arm.

Lon’qu just smirks and leans sideways against the railing.

Robin toes the glass fragments, crushing a larger one beneath his boot. “Where’s Lissa?”

“Gone to bed.”

“Huh.” Robin pushes away from the railing. “We should get going too. Been a long night.”

At the very least, Lon’qu scared some energy into him. If he goes now then the trek doesn’t seem like a long one. And yet, he can’t bring himself to. Weariness isn’t the problem anymore so much as just not wanting the night to end. Unfulfillment keeps him rooted to the spot and hopelessness makes him feel bad about it.

“You looked like you were having fun,” Lon’qu says.

“I was.” Robin settles back against the railing, bumping their shoulders together. “Did you? I guess following Lissa around couldn’t have been that great.”

Lon’qu makes an odd motion somewhere between a shrug and shaking his head. “I spoke with some people. Had my share of wine. It wasn’t all bad.”

“You socialized and didn’t hate it? That’s good.”

“The old captain of the guard was there. She sought me out, impressed by my height, and told me about an old comrade of hers that I reminded her of.”

Robin smiles and rests his chin on his hand. Lon’qu looks down at his interlaced fingers as he speaks, but at least he’s speaking. He has a nice voice. If only Robin could listen to it forever – but, he supposes, absence makes the heart grow fonder. If that applies.

“Half her stories were wild falsehoods, I’m sure,” Lon’qu continues, “but… it was enjoyable enough. I’m not one for festivities.”

Robin laughs a little humourlessly and looks down at his own hand and then beyond that, the broken glass on the ground.

“Yeah,” he mutters. He can feel Lon’qu’s gaze on him as he pushes away from the railing again. “Well, I think I’m going to head up to my room. Come if you want. If you don’t, then I’ll see you–”

A hand around his wrist stops him. Lon’qu frowns and lowers his eyes to the ground, his fingers loosing and slipping away. And – rarity of rarities – Lon’qu starts blushing. A second more of awkward silence and then he bows – deep, with his left arm across his abdomen and his right foot scraping back. Just like Lissa taught.

“I’d – I’d like to… ask for this dance.”

Robin stares. When no answer comes right away, Lon’qu straightens up.

“Do you know _how_ to dance?”

“I just spent weeks watching Lissa give you lessons,” Lon’qu says, gaining back some of his old arrogance. “It hardly seems complicated.”

Robin snorts and rolls his eyes, accepting the offered hand.

Before he has time to think Lon’qu places a hand on the small of his back and claims the lead. Of course. No surprise he’s going to attempt to salvage even that little bit of his pride. Still, it’s not bad. Robin keeps a smile off his face and rests a hand on his shoulder. There’s a distance between them he would love to close but it’s best not to push his luck.

A slow song of strings and piano drifts onto the balcony through the open door, probably the band’s last. Eyes on his feet, Lon’qu takes their first step.

For all his size and strength, the man has a grace about him. Until now Robin has only known it on the battlefield; it’s what keeps him light on his feet and makes him hard to hit. But there’s still a hint of clumsiness that comes with inexperience.

“So what is this about?” Robin asks quietly.

The way he’s counting steps, Lon’qu doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t answer until Robin toys with the hair at his nape, lightly scratching his nails against his skin.

“You’re a poorer liar than you think,” Lon’qu says, “and clingier than you realize.”

“Oh, well, my deepest apologies.”

“It’s not a complaint.”

Robin watches him but Lon’qu keeps his eyes down. Moonlight throws his face into gentle contrast, nothing but highlights and shadows.

“My damage runs deeper than I thought. But if things continue this way then I’m bound to lose you through fault of my own rather than some foe’s blade. So keep wanting; I will do my best to deliver.”

The hand on the small of Robin’s back pulls him closer – close enough that he can smell Lon’qu’s cologne, that all he can see is his strong jawline, and his heart thumps excitedly.

A slight misstep and Lon’qu crushes Robin’s toe beneath his heel.

“Ah. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Robin breathes through clenched teeth. “Lon’qu, I’m not going to force you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. That wouldn’t make me happy either.”

“I will not be coddled.”

“Fine… then what of compromise? Like we’re doing right now.”

Lon’qu tilts his head.

“No crowds, no one else,” Robin says, “just you and I figuring things out at our own pace.”

Those dark eyes look thoughtful, deep, and incredibly warm. There might even be a smile on his face.

“Very well,” Lon’qu concedes. They separate to bow and scrape. “You are an admirable man both on and off the battlefield. The least I can do is my best to make you happy. It is my duty as yours.”

Instead of rising, Robin only lifts his head. Lon’qu remains bowed, eyes on the ground.

“Mine, huh?”

“Yes. Yours.”

Robin reaches over to lift Lon’qu’s chin and pull him in for a kiss. They rise out of the bow together, finally closing that distance that sat between them all through the dance. Strong hands grab Robin’s hips and hold him there, as if he would think of pulling away from the broad shoulders he wraps his arms around. The kiss tastes of wine while the air around them is tinged with cologne and the garden’s flowers. Everything warm, slow, and easy.

When they part, Robin licks the taste off his lips, savouring it with his eyes closed. Lon’qu remains close enough that his nose rubs against his cheek, breath warm against his skin.

“Spend the night with me,” Robin whispers.

“Of course.”

“Good. I’m suddenly reminded of several things you’re better at than dancing.”


End file.
